


Only one path left

by SassyNightCat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Leaving Home, Pre-Ostagar, dealing with bhelens betrayal, much rage much grief much fear, poor aeducan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-19 21:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20663702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyNightCat/pseuds/SassyNightCat
Summary: A ficlet dealing with Hecate Aeducans path from the second in line for Orzammars throne to becoming the Hero of Fereldan.Lots of pent up rage and mace smashing of unhonorable people will happen. Lots of fear over falling into the sky and trying to deal with a strange surface world while holding EVERYTHING together.





	1. On the road of no return

It had been four days and five nights since she had left the Mountain behind and trudged out into the surface world following Duncan.

She thinks she might have cracked a tooth clenching her jaw not to scream as she gazed upon the endless open sky. But she was an Aeducan. No matter what her backstabbing piece-of-shit brother said or did.

She had honour. No matter what the fools in the Assembly believed.

Hecate Aeducan, the second child of the King of Orzammar, would not cry, would not scream and would not disgrace herself no matter what the world threw at her. She would overcome, and she would take back what had been stolen from her.

It had been four days and five nights of silence. She feared that if she opened her mouth, if she said anything at all, then maybe it would come tumbling down. As if words would risk breaking the dam of horror, grief and fear that dwelled within her.

The surface world was horrible. Temperatures were ever-changing, winds coming from everywhere and water falling from that horrible sky. She kept thinking she’d stumble and fall into it. She had visions of it reaching down and eating her.

She was cold, wet and miserable.

It didn’t help that the Grey Warden had such long legs. She refused to make him slow his pace due to her, but that also meant that she had to half-run most of the day to keep up. She was used to a physically challenging life, being a warrior as she were, but...this had her exhausted.

This fifth night she sat by the campfire, staring into it pondering her faith. In the fire, she could see the faces of her father, her brothers and her past life dance before her. She wasn’t hungry this night. She had hardly felt hunger since they left the Mountain.

Duncan broke her trance-like state with a deliberate cough and as she shifted her eyes his way he pushed her bowl of stew closer to her giving her an intent look.

She knew a silent command when she got it. He wanted her to eat.

She sighed and gobbled down the stew, paying no heed to its temperature or taste. It was just nutrition.

She kept her eyes solely on the ground, Duncan had made camp in a clearing in the woods and the night was clear of clouds.

She didn’t want to look up. It made her very soul wanting to scream in terror. And she would not show weakness. She lost herself to the flames again. Brooding over her lost life and the deep unfairness of her fate.

Duncan let out a small sigh:

“I have a hard time telling if it is murderous rage, indignation or terror keeping you locked in that silent state, recruit”

Recruit. She wanted to fly over the fire and bash his brains in. She was the rightful heir of Orzammar, a warrior of the highest rank and proven against the Darkspawn and other fiends of the Deep Roads for years.

She was god damned royalty.

Her indignation and rage must have shown because he leaned forward in that infuriatingly patience way.

“I am sorry if I struck a nerve. But this is your life now. You must learn to leave the past behind. You can not change what has happened, and you still have your life, so you can still take charge of your future,”

“What future?!” she barked, tears welling up in her eyes and a raw iron taste forming in the back of her throat “To die on the surface facing Darkspawn!? To be erased from the memories and leave my people in the hands of Bhelen!? To be stripped of every honour I have ever earned and to…. To… I did nothing wrong! I am innocent! This is his punishment! He deserves this hell, not I!”

The words burst out, just as she had feared, and so did the tears. Burning hot down her cheeks, her chest contracting in pain and her throat felt as if it was ripping itself apart as she roared out her rage and grief.

“I was his sister! Why did he betray me like this?”

And Duncan just sat there, watching her, letting her pour her soul out. She didn’t know for how long she raged, but just as suddenly as it had come it stopped and she just sat there feeling drained and empty.

“I am not ‘recruit’” she whispered “I am Hecate Aeducan. The last of my line, because the one on my throne is a blood traitor without honour not worthy of our name,”

“You are both,” Duncan noted “And I thought your people thought it to be a great honour to join the Grey Wardens? Wasn’t one of your paragons, Paragon Moroc the Maul, present at the founding of our order? We have always valued the dwarfs and their understanding of the Darkspawn threat. You did seem eager back in the Deep Roads,”

She glared at him.

“But maybe that was about saving face and not giving Bhelen the satisfaction of succeding in killing you?” he asked and she shrugged.

“I… Do you even understand the implications of what he did to me?”

“He stole your life, from what I’ve understood,”

“I’m dead now. No matter how much my name is redeemed, no matter how guilty he is proven, my name is stricken from the Memories and my rights nullified. I am… No longer my fathers' daughter,”

Duncan nods and moved over, sitting next to her, looming over her with those kind brown eyes.

“I am aware,” he said “And life is rarely fair for those fated to fall into our lines, and I understood and understand the injustice you faced in that betrayal. But I also know that you have your fathers stubbornness, and your mothers fire burning in your heart. I saw you stare that injustice in the face and refuse to bow down to those who would expect you to crumble. You are, and will always be, his daughter and a daughter of Orzammar. No matter what the Memories record or what schemes your brother throw at you. That is why I chose you. We need the unwavering strength of the Aeducan to conquer this Blight. And I will not see it wasted on backhanded politics.”

“Honeyed words,” she mumbled, pulling away, “The Blight is a surface luxury. They are ever-present back home. Always pushing on our borders and killing the young and bright of our warriors. Orzammar might die while I am up here fighting your Blight,”

“I know,” he responded “But Orzammar will fall if we do not defeat this Blight as well, and will you not have better chances of defending its people with the Wardens at your back? The Legion of the Dead is not going to win that war on its own, and that would have been your only option, would it not? Still dead to your people,”

She bit her lip, to stop it from quivering.

“I will kill Bhelen,” she whispered, “I will end him.”

“I believe the best cause of action for you is to try and put that rage behind you,” Duncan softly retorted “He is out of your reach now, and I have a hard time believing you would desert and break your word to me just to die at his guards for nothing?”

She let out a pained growl at those words and Duncan nodded and got up to walked to his tent.

“Grief, Hecate, but know that your mind will have to be in the present soon. No Archdemon will wait for you to get your head in the game,”

She glared after him and stayed by the fire until the embers had turned into dark grey ash. She got no sleep that night.

The truth kept her up. The cold hard truth of Duncan being right. 

Her choice had been made for her.  The Paragons had given her this one chance to escape the Deep Roads. It didn’t matter how much it hurt or scared her. She had to do this. She had to embrace the Grey Wardens and the surface world, for Orzammar. For her people. 

This was her only chance of saving them. The Paragons would know that Bhelen for sure would not be the Savior Orzammar needed. She had to be. And this was the only path now. She had to walk it with honour. She had to make her family name a proud one again.

Bhelen might have won this battle, and he might think he'd won the war, but she'd get him. She'd get him one day. She'd whipe that smug grin of his face and make their Ancestors denounce him for eternity. 


	2. Another Betrayal

It was pitiful. She could respect Jory but he still seemed...naive to say the least. He’d never faced darkspawn. He had no idea what horrors it meant being a Grey Warden. To leave a pregnant wife for this? Idiot.

The thief she had nothing but disdain for. Honorless thug.

Alistair... seemed to be okay. At least he knew what this was about.

She fucking hated the marshy forests they were trudging through. It did nothing for her. She would kick the next one who had to pull her up from a sinkhole or when she accidentally stepped out into the non-solid ground.

She had sludge and water and mud up and under all of her armour.

“You got to be careful where you step, little one,” the thief chuckled as Jory pulled her out of another swap pit “You are short and dense, you’ll sink like a stone,”

“At least my head won’t be smashed,” she growled and Alistair broke in to stop the violence she was about to embark upon.

“Remember to work together, we are here on a mission, right?”

“Find the blood, find the documents, get back to Duncan,” the thief muttered sauntering passed them all “We would be done if miss dwarf wasn’t tripping all over the place,”

“Or if Mr Thief didn’t get mauled by wolves and needed saving,” she growled as she shook some lumps of moss from under her leg plates

“They flanked me!”

She rolled her eyes and stomped forward. She was about to say something when she felt a familiar scent and a chillingly familiar chattering sound.

“Darkspawn,” she hissed, feeling her adrenaline surge “Up ahead!”

She pulled her scarf up over her mouth to make sure she didn’t swallow any of their filthy blood.

The fight was brutal. And it felt so good. Smashing her mace into their skulls, feeling bone crack and seeing their teeth dislodge from their jaws and go flying. Being painted with blood once more. The blood of the enemy.

She heard herself laughing as it all died down and the last darkspawn was put to Alistairs sword. A maniacal laugh of relief and joy. Finally something familiar. Something simple and easy to grasp. Killing darkspawn felt...like home.

“Good one!” she laughed kicking one of the dead bodies “Good job, boys! Good job! Wonderful footwork sir Jory! Great shooting thief! Love that shield work, Alistair!”

“What. Were. Those?” Jory was pale and looked frantic.

Weird, she thought, he was a seasoned warrior after all. And this had just been some scouts. No ogre or anything.

“Darkspawn,” Alistair replied “Nasty bastards, aren’t they? But yes, as our dwarven friend said, good work everybody,”

“Soo...we take the blood and go find that archive now?” the thief looked anxious too “I would love to get out of these woods...”

“Yes, the sooner the better I imagine,” Alister nodded “We wouldn’t want to kill of all of the horde this afternoon, would we? I bet the King would be really mad if we stopped his Blight before it started,”

Hecate scoffed and climbed a tall rock nearby looking around the forest.

God damned trees, she couldn’t see a thing.

“These were only scouts. I bet they have a camp or something nearby. Shouldn’t we go looking for that priest or whatever that was out here according to that letter? If there are civilians out here they should be kept safe,”

“How do you know so much about darkspawn?” the thief glared at her and she glared back

“I’m a dwarf. We fight them in between Blights. Our blood paint the Deep Roads to keep your lot safe. That’s why,”

Hours later they all stood up in that secluded part of Ostagar and stared at Duncan as he explained the Ritual for them. She felt her stomach knot together, but she didn’t say anything. She understood. Whatever it takes, meant whatever it takes.

She had heard horror tales about people ingesting darkspawn blood, but if that was what it took. If that was what would make her a Grey Warden, so be it.

She was already dead to anyone who mattered to her.

It was sad to see Jory struck down, but she understood. They couldn’t have cowards in the Wardens. It was horrific to see the thief die before her eyes, but she understood. They couldn’t have weaklings in the Wardens.

_Ancetors give me strength_ she prayed as she swallowed the vile potion.

And maybe they did, because she survived. She survived her Joining and was the only one in her group to pass the test.

“Rise, sister Hecate,” Duncan said as she woke up “Rise as a Grey Warden,”

And she did. Grim and with a splitting headache she rose to her feet.

Then there was more chaos, the strategy sounded risky but sound but then… it all fell apart. The fight through the tower, a beacon lit and no help coming.

She felt her blood boil hot with rage once more.

Betrayal. More god damned betrayal. The valley beneath them flooding with darkspawn, not reinforcements.

The screams of dying warriors, pain and more pain and then darkness. Awaking in the woods. Still alive. Still betrayed and yet again framed for crimes she did not commit.

She remembered staring at Alistair as he grief-stricken babbled on feeling...cold.

“It does not matter,” she said, with such cold rage that he startled “It does matter what they do or what they say. Duncan was right. The Blight is upon us. We’ll stop that, or they will die. Those who are against us will perish. Either by my blade or the Darkspawn. Get up. We have work to do,”

She shrugged at the mage the old woman sent with them. Extra hands were extra hands and she did not care _who _helped them as long as they got the help. The treaties. Yes. Find all those oathbound the help them save the world and make them stand by their word.

The anger and the focus helped. It kept her eyes to the ground and made her not think about home as much. She had people to care for now, vendettas to settle. Wrongs to right.

Darkspawn and traitors to hunt.

As they passed through the woods away from Ostagar she almost mused remembering her fathers words about her being destined for greatness and all the praise she’d received over the years.

Trian being so stuck up and Bhelen being...a bloody traitor… He sure had been unlucky with his brood. Her lovely father. But no matter. She’d avenge him and his ruined legacy.

She just had to save the world first.


	3. Dreams and Hopes

It talked to her. It called to her. A horror so ancient she couldn’t even begin to grasp it. She didn’t know what it said. Or what it wanted. But she knew that it called to her.

This ancient blackened dragon. It was the Deep Roads. She knew it was the Deep Roads. The bright lava rivers, the archways and the paths.

She couldn’t run. It wasn’t...the perspective was off. It couldn’t be real but it felt real and she was experiencing it and it roared so very loudly…

She woke with a startle, sweating and thrashing around trying to grasp for her weapons. It took her a few moments to realize she was in camp. On the surface. It took her another moment to realize why she was there and not at home, underground.

As she came to her senses she saw Alistair sitting by the fire looking at her.

“Bad dreams, huh?”

“It seemed so real...”

Her mind was spinning. Dwarves did not dream. What was this? She...how?

“The archdemon, it ‘talks’ to the horde, and we feel it just as they do. That's why we know this is really a Blight”

She stared at him, blinking slowly, feeling dizzy and like she was about to throw up. She could feel cold sweat forming on her back. Fear. Pure fear.

“The archdemon? Is that the dragon?”

Alistair nodded and she felt her knees grow weak and how she drifted down onto the ground.

Everything felt so insignificant now. _That_ was an archdemon? That was what was leading the Darkspawn and what they had to kill?

The two of them? How?

Then she felt a blanket wrap around her shoulders and the soft sound of Alistair sitting down beside her, offering some comfort. It felt almost more alien that the dreaming and the thought of having to slay a darkspawn dragon.

“Anyhow, when I heard you thrashing around, I thought I should tell you. It was scary at first for me, too,”

His voice was so warm and oddly comforting. She believed him.

“Thank you, Alistair,” she mumbled, “I appreciate it...”

“Don’t think nothing about it,” he murmured, looking almost embarrassed all of the sudden “Not much seems to rattle you, so I… I figured I’d help now when I actually can,”

She nodded and sat quietly for a moment.

“Are all dreams like that? That horrifying?”

“What? No? Ah..ohh… Dwarves don’t dream, do they? Hah, now I feel a fool. No. No, they are not. Sometimes they are nice, dreams of sunshine and puppies. Fair maidens bringing you cake and such,”

She looked at him with some disbelief.

“That must truly suck,” he added, uncomfortable with her silence “Having _that _tob_e _your first dream. Do you want some hot milk? I got hot milk when I had bad dreams as a kid, calmed me down,”

“No,” she grunted “I’m not a child. I do not need hot milk to calm me down. I just… I’m going to go and have a walk,”

“Okay. A walk can do wonders too! Good luck. Don’t get ambushed!”

“I won’t,” she muttered with a smirk as she walked off to take a stroll around the camp and try to clear her head.

The way he talked sometimes reminded her of Gorim. That...well-meaning and the slightly flustered thing they both did. She sighed as stared at the forest around her and tried to find some courage. Her old life in Orzammar felt a million lifetimes away.

The break of a twig startled her out of her thoughts and she saw Morrigan peering at her from the bushes.

“Did I startle you, Warden?” the witch asked and Hecate scoffed.

“I was deep in thought. The sound startled me, not you personally,”

“If you say so,” the Witch muttered, “Should you not be resting?”

“I had a dream. I doubt I’ll sleep anything more tonight,”

“A dream? But dwarves have no connection to the fade,”

Hecate rolled her eyes.

“You say? I had no idea. It’s a Grey Warden thing, apparently,”

“Curious,” the witch murmured and got closer “Hardly pleasant then I imagine? Alistair did not tell you beforehand?”

“He did not. I bet he...didn’t know or was to busy thinking about the end of the world to inform me,”

“Potentially,” the witch agreed “I could brew you some tea if you want? I have the herbs necessary for a calming tea that should keep the dreams at bay,”

“Aren’t you just going to warm me some milk?” Hecate scoffed “I’m no baby,”

“Milk? I...assume it could have some calming effects but no… I was thinking something a bit more potent,” Morrigan looked a bit confused and then shrugged “But if you prefer to stay up all night lost in thought do not let me stop you,”

Then she turned and left, in that abrupt manner she did most things.

“Morrigan...” Hecate didn’t know why she called out after the Witch, but the Witch stopped, looking back at her.

“...Some tea would be nice...”  
The Witch smiled and they returned to camp. Hecate looked at the camp as they sat by Morrigans fire. Leliana and Alistair talking further away, Sten still sleeping in his tent.

A quiver in her heart. She was so afraid that she was starting to warm up to them. That she was beginning to care. That it would all come crashing down again.


End file.
